House MD Presents Nightmares and Dreamscapes
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: Have you ever wanted to know what the doctors at PPTH dream about? Well now you can find out. HouseWilson in the first chapter, possible HouseChase, ChaseForeman, ChaseCameron, and who knows what else might come up.
1. Wilson's Nightmare

This is the first chapter in a long piece that will detail the daydreams, fantasies and nightmares of the staff at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

"I had that dream again last night," I almost told House over breakfast this morning, but then I chickened out and didn't say a word. In stead we ate in total silence. I almost told him twice on the way into the hospital, and again at lunch.

I almost mentioned it when House drags me out of my office in the middle of me telling a patient that her biopsy reveled the mass is cancerous—stage four in fact—I almost tell him because I'm pissed enough not to care that it would upset him, but I never do.

Eventually we go back to the apartment and I start on dinner, while he just sits on the couch watching TV. The whole day goes by and I end up back in bed, with House fast asleep and me still sitting up and I haven't as much mentioned the dream. I've had the same nightmare hundreds of times since we met, and while they aren't identical every time, they are close.

House is sick, bad enough that he needs to be in a hospital. Sometimes we're at Princeton Plainsboro, other times I have no idea. Last night, his team was there and they were trying to treat him, but he argued with them every time they wanted to do a test. He sore he knew what was wrong with him. He told me, Cameron, Chase, Cuddy and even Foreman, that if everyone would just listen, he could fix this.

So I got all of the doctors to come into his room. House was laying there, pale as a sheet, wearing a hospital gown, and he had about a hundred different tubes and wires coming in and out of him. There was a heart monitor attached to his chest. He's got an O2 monitor on his finger, an IV and about fifty or sixty other things I couldn't even identify.

When everyone came in, we all looked at him, waiting but he didn't speak. He'd fallen asleep. So I went over and I touched his shoulder, lightly, waking him up.

"Good," House says, taking a look around the room. "You're all here." Then he flashed a smile at me, winked, and leaned forward. "You're probably wondering why I asked you here. Well, I know what's making me sick, and you idiots don't." Even in my dreams House mocks us. "I have—," he begins, but never finishes.

Then all of the sudden everything goes horribly wrong. His eyes close as he falls back to the bed and all of the alarms start to go off. I'm frozen in the same position, while everyone else works on him.

First they do chest compressions and mouth to mouth but the alarms don't stop and his lips turn blue. Then someone gets out a kit and intubates him. All I can ever do is watch. I watch as someone else grabs a set of defibrillator paddles, shouts clear, and zaps his chest. They work on him for what seems like hours, but nothing happens.

Eventually it gets to the point where I can't even hear the alarms anymore, but even I could, it wouldn't matter. Everyone has given up. I watch helplessly as they stoop trying to save them. I hear a voice say, time of death and then I scream.

"No! Do it again! He's not dead! He can't be! Why aren't you helping him? You're killing him!" I scream and scream all of that stereotypical stuff, but no one listens to me. I even try to run to his side and save him myself, but every time I pick up an instrument, it vanishes right out of my hand.

Then there's someone at my side, Cuddy, I think, and she's trying to tell me that they did everything they could. She's giving the speech we've all given a hundred million times before, but I know that it's not true. I always think that because it was House they didn't try as hard. They don't care and even though his body's cold and blue, and I should know that he's gone, I refuse to believe it.

In the dream I fight with everyone right up until the end, when they pull a sheet up over his head. I start to cry and then I wake up, still sobbing. That is my worst nightmare. It's one of those reoccurring dreams and even though I've had it more than a hundred times, since House and I first got together, I haven't once mentioned it to him. I'm not sure I ever plan on telling him. There's really no point. He'd just laugh at me and it wouldn't go away. So I never told him, and I probably never will. I'll just keep on dreaming it forever.


	2. The Return of Steve McQueen

Another House/Wilson chapter contains spoilers for Hunting and Insensitive, but they're only minor ones. This is based on a real dream I had last night.

When House calls me at 8:00 AM on a Saturday and says it's an emergency, my biggest concern is the eerily calmness in his voice. Words like emergency, aren't usually used by calm people, and are rarely said by someone like House. So, of course, I race right over. When I get inside, he's just sitting at the kitchen table, with about ten or fifteen rubber rats, a roll of yarn and a couple of metal coat hangers in front of him.

"What the Hell is this?" I find myself screaming, even though he appears to be perfectly fine, or perhaps because of that fact.

"Oh, I just had this really strange dream, and in it there was this gigantic rat-mobile. And I wanted one. Turns out they don't make those. I guess people think it's too scary or something like that," he chuckles. "Anyway, I need you to hang this up for me," he says, handing over the piece.

"You said there was an emergency," I inform him, trying to show just how terrified the phone call made me, but as always, he's completely undistributed by all of this. He hardly even hears me.

"Yeah, well, I knew you'd never come otherwise. Put it above the couch, okay? I'm gonna go see how Steve is responding to his new roommate," he tells me, with a huge smile on his face.

"You got another rat? Why would—I—you said it was an emergency!"

"I put one of the rubber rats in his cage. That was part of the dream too," he tells me, ignoring my anger completely. "Well I mean Steve was in the dream, not him with a fake rat, but I thought it would be funny. He's either gonna kill it, or fuck it, or eat it."

"I'd hate to think in what order. I thought you had fallen down and broken something. I can't even, would you at least—you said it was an emergency!"

"Do you think I'm going to respond differently if you keep on saying that? Calm down. So anyway, in this dream, I came home from some sort of a vacation and someone had hung all of these rats from my ceiling—and then… The rest of it isn't really that interesting."

"You called me up at 8:00 in the morning, on a Saturday, to come over here and hang up a rat mobile and talk about a dream you had?"

"Actually I called you over to talk about the dream you keep on having. The one where I die. It's annoying as all Hell when you wake up, actually the whole thing is annoying."

"How do you even know about that?"

"You talk in your sleep, and I guess the dream must freak you out, because you act weird for days afterwards. Everybody has those dreams. It doesn't mean anything."

"I know…but—I've had those dreams before, when I was younger...about…well I had it—and…can we talk about something else, please?" I ask, desperate to change the subject.

"I think that's _my_ line," House informs me, with his usual annoying smile. "I could tell you about the rest of my dream, but like I said it's not nearly as cool as the rats." Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that brain of his, but mostly I don't bother.

Between the Vicodin and one the half empty bottles of alcohol that he's never without when we're not working (and often even when we are) it's hard to imagine much of anything going on in there. Most people would be unconscious from the sheer number of painkillers he swallows at once. That, mixed with the booze is well known for causing—among other things—death.

"Are you sure it was a dream, and not a hallucination," I attempt to joke but my laughter is only from nervousness, and he can sense it. "Okay. Fine. Tell me about this dream of yours."

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just hallucinating that you're here and when the real Wilson comes, he'll be upset that I spent all morning chatting with a figment of my imagination."

"Alright, that's it," I announce, actually managing to get past my concern. "I changed my mind. This is my new worst nightmare, dealing with your crap! I'm sick of it." House laughs, and steps over to my side, patting me on the shoulder.

"So in this dream, I come back from some vacation and I had the really cool thing in my apartment, with the rats hanging from the ceiling. Then I was at work—or at least in my office. That part got a bit confused. It doesn't matter. So I'm sitting there in my office, and," he keeps talking but I'm starting to wonder if this is going to be like the only other time he ever bothered to share one of his dreams with me.

House said something along the lines of, "it was amazing. I had this bottle of pills and it never got empty. The whole time I kept taking more and more pills, just to see if it would empty, and I…" Then he started laughing. Even to this day, I'm not sure how much of that (if any) was real, or if he just made the whole story up as a joke.

I can't hear his voice anymore. He must have realized that I'm not paying attention. "Cameron was in it," he says, and I'm sure he's trying to make his voice sound like that of a teenage boy with a crush.

"Well, I hope you had a good time, because I'm pretty sure she and Chase are—serious. Not that anything is guaranteed. Especially with pretty girls, but I'm sure you know—well you've seen it on TV anyway."

"No. Actually she was dating Chase in the dream too. At least, she was dating him at the beginning. That was why she wanted to talk to me, and she told me this long, drawn out story about the two of them and how it just wasn't working out. And she wanted to know what to do."

"Wait," I jump in, because even in his dreams there's no way that House would ever put up with something like that. "She came to talk to you about this? You, of all the people in the hospital?"

"Yeah. I know, that's what I was thinking the whole time, or at least at first. Then I paged Chase and he came into my office, but Cameron couldn't see her, and all the while she's still talking and so he hears everything she said."

"That sounds more like you," I say and he sort of nods. "So how did Chase react when he heard all of this? Or dream Chase…this is sort of strange."

"I don't know," he says. "It ended and I woke up." Then I watch as he lies down on the couch, looking up at the rats, as the air-conditioning sends them spinning around and around.

"And then you called me, claiming it was an emergency, even though all you wanted was for me to hang up your stupid rat mobile?" I ask, trying to figure out why he didn't just go back to sleep.

"No. I called you a couple of hours later. First I got up and…well you know my morning routine…and then I went and found a joke shop that was open at 5:00 and there was this fat chick with a giant mole on her cheek, and she gave me a weird look when I bought the rats," he tells me, continuing to recount his whole morning.

I'm about to mention that there are very few people who wouldn't think buying a dozen rats at 5:00 in the morning strange, but I know he wouldn't listen, and even if eh didn't he wouldn't care. Maybe he's right on this one. I mean who is this woman? And why does she care what he's buying just so long as he pays and doesn't do something completely insane like stick a gun in her face or take a leak in the store? "Then I started working on it and when I was almost finished, then I called you."

Suddenly I no longer care that House called, waking me up at 8:00 in the morning, told me it was an emergency and insisted that I come right over. And even though it's only 9:45, I accept his offer of a beer and squeeze onto the couch beside him and the two of us lay there watching the rats swim across the ceiling.


	3. Clinic Duty

Chase has a nightmare. There is a mention of Cameron/Chase, but that's about it.

I'm working in the clinic and this kid comes in. He can't be more than eighteen or nineteen-years-old, but he's sick, really sick. I draw blood, do x-rays, examine him, but nothing seems to make sense. So I call Cameron down and she does everything I did with the same results. Then we get Foreman, and Wilson and we even ask Cuddy, but no one can figure out what's wrong with this poor kid. Nobody knows what else to do, and even though its my case, every time I bring somebody new in, they say the same thing, "Get house."

And I know I have no other choice. House comes in and he looks at all of us, and then they all fall to their knees, and say over and over and over, "we're not worthy. We're not worthy," but I don't. He looks at me, snarling like a rabid dog. I think he was expecting me to treat him the way everyone else is, and he gives me this look, and it's all I can do not to we my pants.

House makes his way across the room, somehow cane less and without a limp. He leans over the patient, and makes a weird sorcerer-like gesture.

"He has a twin. An identical twin," House says. "Don't you." The kid nods, looking away, as if he had been caught in some huge, horrible lie, even though nobody has asked him about siblings. "You need a new liver and he'll be a perfect match."

So we go ahead, and start getting the patient set up for the transplant. Then this amazingly beautiful woman with bouncy red curls enters the room, and she I s dressed in a hospital gown, even though she looks perfectly healthy.

"Joey," the kid shouts. "You're here." I rub my eyes, and the red head disappears. In her place is a shaggy haired, grungy looking boy. House was right, they are identical. They look so much alike that when we are getting them ready for the operations, something goes horribly wrong.

We end up throwing the healthy kid's liver away and replace it with half of the organ from the sick kid, and so now we have two patients, both of them sick and now need another transplant, but House tells me that there's a chance to save the liver we threw out.

He takes me out to a dumpster behind the hospital. The garbage bin is filled with organs of every type. Most of them are dark brown, green, and black, dead looking. He looks over at the bin and nod's his head. House's cane has reappeared, and even though he hasn't said anything, I'm pretty sure I know what he wants.

"I'm not going in there. Even if I don't drown, I'll never be able to find the kid's liver." House doesn't have to say anything, I already know he's thinking that if I don't go in there, he'll kill me and give my liver to the kids.

So I jump into the dumpster, feeling the squishy marshmallow texture against my bare skin, as my clothes disappear. Now I'm completely naked, and I hear something, House's voice, but I can't tell what he's saying because I'm under hundreds of kidneys, hearts, an brains. I pop back up to the surface. "What's going on," I ask, looking over at him, but he doesn't say a word. House just smiles and points to something I can't see.

"I found the switch" he informs me, placing his hands on either side of the dumpster.

"What switch?" I ask, immediately regretting the decision to say anything at all. I watch as his smile grows even wider and becomes almost evil looking. I'm terrified of what might happen next, but don't say a word.

"The one that opens the shoot at the bottom of the dumpster and sorts all of the organs." It seems so simple that the only problem I have with it, is that I wasn't the one who found it.

"Wait," I tell House, suddenly realizing he is about to push the button with me still in there, "I'm naked," I shriek, and he sort of laughs, but reaches for the button all the same.

"Oh don't worry about that. The organ sorting room is in the basement of the hospital. Hardly anyone goes down there. I'm still unsure, but I allow myself to be persuaded. "I'll be there in a minute and I'll bring you a pair of scrubs or something." I should know better than to trust House, especially when he's being nice and I'm in a venerable position, but I say okay.

The bottom of the dumpster opens up into a giant tunnel and I start to slide down, down, down. It seems like the sorting machine will never and just when I am about to give up on ever getting out, I'm thrown into a dark room, and I land on the hard ground with a thud.

All of the lights switch on and not only am I not in the basement of the hospital, but the room I am in is far from empty. I've somehow gotten back to my apartment and all of my friends, and Alison, and my family, and all the other doctors are there, wearing party hats. They all scream, "Surprise," even though they are the ones getting surprised.

That is when I remember that it's my birthday, and I realize that I'm at my surprise party, in nothing but my birthday suit. Soon the shock fades and everyone starts to point and laugh, while I desperately try to find some place to hide, but of course there isn't anywhere.

And then, finally, my alarm goes off, and I wake up, only to remember that I lost a bet with House and I have to cover his clinic duty all day. So I do the only thing I can. I hit the snooze and try to roll over and get a few more minutes of sleep.

I'm working in the clinic…


End file.
